


when my time comes around (lay me gently in the cold dark earth)

by lesbianauriel



Series: three idiot avatars fuck up a town [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-Typical Horror, No beta we die like archival assistants, Not Really Character Death, Other, Rating May Change, Relationship Negotiation, cade's just vibing, i MIGHT make this into a series later on where the archives gang is actually around, leeches and mushrooms and decay Oh My, lots of hozier lyrics, marlowe is a distant cousin of daisy, most of it is cute but in a very very gross way, swamp! swamp! swamp!, this is very very oc-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24862705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianauriel/pseuds/lesbianauriel
Summary: "It was a hive thing, Cade had told them -- the leeches were a part of her, so of course they liked being near Marlowe. Well, she’d phrased it differently, saying that she was part of them, which, you know what, Marlowe could deal with. If they were dating a bunch of leeches and fungi possessing a corpse, at least the leeches and fungi liked them back."
Relationships: Original Nonbinary Character/Original Female Character
Series: three idiot avatars fuck up a town [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1809733
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	when my time comes around (lay me gently in the cold dark earth)

**Author's Note:**

> hooo boy okay so !! this is a dumb love story about two idiots. no canon tma characters make an appearance, apart from a brief mention in chapter three. this takes place in the american southeast and is very self-indulgent. also: hog swamp is a real place and it's very pretty there. this chapter's short, but the rest will probably be longer !! it's just rotting fluff and a bit of exoposition, really. tw for this chapter: body horror, trypophobia, bugs

The shady foliage of the swamp offered protection from the merciless sun, and the thick, muddy water seeping into the denim of Marlowe’s jeans granted another small relief from the oppressive heat. Every step was noisy, water splashing as they trudged through the swamp, the smell sinking into their clothes. Their feet sunk into the mud with every footfall, and it seemed to cling more desperately with every step, which was … pretty concerning, honestly. Hog Swamp always had a weight around it, as if the air itself was full of heavy silt and mud, which made for a slow-moving journey. A few disjointed lyrics rolled around in their mind, things like  _ claimed _ and  _ sunken _ and  _ buried for my love _ \-- which, okay, sure, the strange woman in the middle of the swamp wasn’t their love, they hadn’t had  _ that _ conversation yet, but they could hope, right?

Right.

Either way, they were well on their way to wooing her.

They paused as they came to a large, hollow tree, cracking their neck and glancing about. She was usually here by now. Surely she hadn’t forgotten? Just as they had half a mind to turn around before their feet sank any further into the mud, they caught a movement out of the corner of their eye, and felt moist, cold arms around their waist and a familiar torso pressed against their back.

Marlowe relaxed into the embrace easily, forcing their lips into a firm pout. “You’re late.”

Cade pressed her nose into Marlowe’s hair, laughing lightly. It made the fat leeches in her skin writhe, which was an … odd sensation, especially when she was pressed so close to Marlowe, but during this -- what was it, courtship? -- Marlowe had gotten very, very used to  _ odd sensations _ . “I’m not late,” Cade said, pressing a kiss to the top of Marlowe’s head, “You’re just early, as usual.”

Marlowe didn’t dignify that with a response, instead tilting their head back to half-heartedly glare at the taller woman. Cade stared back, hanging moss obscuring her eyes and a playful smile pulling at her lips, her expression pulled into something entirely too soft for what was effectively a walking corpse. Marlowe’s glare withered, and they sighed, pushing up on their tip-toes to press a quick kiss to Cade’s lips.

Cade hummed for a moment, before breaking the embrace and moving to face them fully. “You’re dressed up today.”

“You noticed!” Marlowe glanced down to the church shirt they stole from their brother’s closet. It was fully ruined, covered in mud and sweat and swamp water. A few of Cade’s leeches fell onto their shoulder, where they wiggled happily, not attempting to suck their blood, but simply content to be close to Marlowe. It was a hive thing, Cade had told them -- the leeches were a part of her, so of course they liked being near Marlowe. Well, she’d phrased it differently, saying that  _ she _ was part of them, which, you know what, Marlowe could deal with. If they were dating a bunch of leeches and fungi possessing a corpse, at least the leeches and fungi liked them back. “I was hoping we could, uh, discuss something, actually. Hence the… well,  _ formerly  _ fancy shirt.”

The oyster mushrooms that ran across the grey-pallored flesh of Cade’s arms flared and grew larger. She brushed the hanging moss out of her eyes, and Marlowe could see her try very hard to force her lips into a neutral expression.

“No, I am not letting your leeches eat me,” Marlowe clarified.

“Oh,” Cade said, shoulders slumping a bit. Marlowe shook their head, a light laugh bubbling up from their throat as they reached forward, standing again on their tip-toes to cup Cade’s cheek in their hand. 

“ _ But _ ,” Marlowe continued, running their thumb over a few of the holes dotting Cade’s skin, smiling a bit when their touch left toadstools sprouting in its wake, “I would like to know if you’d like to make this -- make  _ us _ \-- official.” They paused. That could be taken very, very wrong. “Again,  _ not _ in the ‘I want to join you in your worship of a fear god’ way, but --”

Cade put her hand over Marlowe’s, keeping it in place and leaning into the touch a bit. If there was any blood left in her body, Marlowe thought she might blush. “I know what you mean,” she said, eyes softening again. Her voice was always so  _ soft _ , rasping like stones. “And - and I’d like that too, I think.”

“Do you have to ask your, uh, patron?”

Cade hmmed, raising a brow as a small smirk played at her lips. “Ah, yes. Let me go ask the non-sentient embodiment of the fear of decay whether or not I’m allowed to have a partner.”

Marlowe frowned, crossing their arms. “Well, I don’t know how it works!”

“No, Mars,” Cade agreed, laughing softly and taking Marlowe into her arms again. “You really don’t.”

Marlowe huffed, feigning offense for a moment, before melting into Cade’s touch all over again. They stood like that for a while, before Marlowe began to murmur a song under their breath and Cade began to sway them gently in the mud and humid air. 

It was a tradition, of a sort -- Cade had stumbled upon Marlowe first when they were sat at the edge of Hog Swamp, strumming on an old guitar and singing of love and loss. Cade emerged from the treeline, asking the name of the song, and Marlowe had been so startled that they would have fallen into the swamp -- if Cade hadn’t caught them. It was romantic, Marlowe thought, if you tossed all sense of normalcy out the window.  Then again, there wasn’t exactly much that was normal about loving someone like Cade Bailey.


End file.
